.[Alone] in the [Dark].

W i l l o w v e i l . . . Sometimes she just wanted to curse nature, but even if she did that didn't stop it from happening. Walking quickly out from her homeland, Meurta Mountains that is, Willow soon found herself skirting the border, meaning to stay away from any wolves till this horrid curse was to pass. Although blind as a bat, she knew her way around fairly well, for she never tripped nor stumbled about, instead she walked with a strange grace, as if feeling the earth with each step, while keeping her ears forward, listening to the world around her. Despite being unable to see anything physically, she did have a sort of 'third' eye, which she developed over time, and it made her capable of detecting auras of any living being around her. In a way, her aura-seeing 'eye' was better than the eyes of other animals, in a way. For she could easily spot another wolf coming from afar, or one nearby hiding, because plants couldn't mask their presence from her and it often helped with hunting as well, because she could spot herds and prey from a far distance. She was, obviously, a very different and very unique creature, though she didn't really think much of it herself.

Whisking her tail, flustered, she caught another nose-full of the scent that was leaking from her loins, an aroma that would quickly attract attention if she wasn't careful. As she walked along, feeling fallen leaves brushing over her toes, she began to realize, yet again, that she had not eaten anything for the day. Blast it all. Pausing momentarily, she remembered the kill that her adoptive son, Ender, had kindly left for her when she had been posting herself at Akira's den. She had been in so much of a hurry to get away from the pack that she had forgotten about the meal that had been caught for her. As much as she was starving, being fairly small and thin as it is, she didn't want to risk going back and drawing more attention to herself. Exhaling, feeling a bit frustrated, assuming it was just the hormones that were making her so edgy, she continued her walk, wondering irritably when this heat was going to pass. Bloody hell. It sure was a bother to be a female sometimes.

Stepping on, she picked up the scent of rabbit nearby. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite in the mood to chase it, nor did she have the strength to do so at the time. Willow was small and never ate often, not on purpose of course, but it was hard for a blind wolf to chase animals through the woods without almost running into something. And that was the disadvantage of being blind, because she wasn't able to detect her surroundings as well as she should. Though, recently, she had caught a small doe, so there was hope for improvement yet. Deciding to just forget hunting for the time being, she picked up her head, sniffing the air curiously, and rapidly picked up the scent of running water nearby. Good, a nice drink and a rest would do her some good. Maybe there would be some fish, those were easier for her to catch than other animals, because she didn't have to worry about slamming into a tree or falling into a bush in order to catch them.

Trekking off into the direction in which she nosed out the water, she eventually found a stream. Walking carefully in the direction of the flowing river, listening to the rush of water as it moved, she felt the earth beneath her paws grow moist as she came to the river bank. Pleased to rest for a bit, she bowed her head and lapped up the fresh water. Better yet, she spied several auras floating about in the stream; fish. After finishing her drink, the white wolfess began to snap and dive into the surface of the water, grabbing up two or three fish after a short time. Satisfied with her catch, she grabbed one up, and began to tear into it. As she ate, she began to wonder what was going on in with her pack right then. Drawing the raw flesh into her maw, devouring it almost in a greedy fashion, Willow had almost forgotten the reason that she had for coming all the way out here, and if anything, being so distracted by her meal, she probably wouldn't notice it if someone had indeed follow her, or came across her. But what were the chances of that happening?

Lestat Corvus Corvidae...

Time was being wasted in these forsaken lands, precious seconds ticking by unnoticed while every monster, beast, witch and demon overtook the land in their selfishness and rebellion. It seemed this place had been an afterthought, quickly formed and soon forgotten. Starved lupine were all that lingered here, wallowing in self-pity and drinking in the lonliness of the damned lands. There would never be life here, never hope, happiness or love. Perhaps that is what had drawn him here rather then to a pack of security and alliance. Here he was able to mull over the thoughts in his head, busy himself with the voices that had taunted him for so long, study over her face and the way it looked when she left. Months ago, he had thought over these same things, the events recorded and tucked away into the little box of memories. The only other witness to this event had been a female, Aborisa.

Again and again he thought over the actions right before the strike, right before he had taken her beautiful throat between his jaws. She had been speaking of something, the words running over her tounge like silk. He wondered now what she had said...Now that he sat here, cold, alone, and bored out of his skull, the behemoth almost wished she were here, begging for his attention like the annoying banshee she was. Almost, anyway. As soon as he thought of her beautiful voice in his ears, his stomach turned and his labia curled upward in a disgusted snarl. He could almost hear it...whispering to his conscience and drawing him into it's spinning lies...Dial turned to watch a fatale approach, solae twisting 'pon their base to catch the words the stranger threw out to him with a slight case of wonder and foolishness... Aborisa...he listened intently to the words that passed the belle's ashen labia, auds posed acutely on his broad skull. A brow rose when she spoke of losing everything, mild interest showing in his placid chasms...he wondered what her past was like...

The memory itself was false, however, so perhaps the resulting conversation with this stranger had been false as well. Perhaps he had yearned so badly to speak to his sister, his twin, who kew him so much better then he knew himself that his mind had formed such a vixen like her, only more suited to be roaming the lost lands of Fire and Ice. In no way would Acantha be roaming like a worthless vagabond in this scrap of dust, bleached bones and dried blood. Then again, Aborisa could have been very real. He couldn't know. But her face was there, in his head, and he felt ashamed for the things he had thought of her whilst in his own neverland, months ago. The transition of reality to fantasy had occured so easily, then switched back as effortlessly as a dove taking flight. How could he dwell so long on her, that his own subconscience twist the fond memories and her sour face until it lay expressionless and dead before him? How could he dream of killing his beautiful and wicked Valeriana? The man shruddered at the thought, the action lost to the darkness that he had placed himself within for the moment. They had not been bespoken, but the faux memory brought such a guilt to him that he filled his proud mind with betrayal and disgust...to take that throat, in his jaws...even in thought...He could stand it no longer. Tearing himself loose from the comforting shadows, the vampire lengthened his stride and nearly flew across the loam. He cared not of where he was going, where he had come from. He simply wanted away.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--

The longer he ran, the less pain he felt. The faster he went, the more the guilt faded away. Emptiness filled the place of the storm, a deep ache of nothing that festered in the heat of day. It sickened his stomach, and yet he could not bring himself to a forgiving state of mind. She had left him, scurried away like a coward when she could have faught. They would have stood by her...but she ran...and took their daughter with them. When he thought of it objectively, dreaming of murdering her seemed not so strange. His love had clouded his judgement of her. He could see it, now that the burning veil had been lifted. Had she loved him at all? What of their daugher? Their child? Was that out of spite? Valeriana...she was a witch. His loyalty to her was damaged in a way that could never be restored. His heart, it was smouldering. And yet, somewhere deep in his reality, he knew he could never hate her. But he could try.

The travel sent him into lands unknown, though the sickeningly sweet aroma that saturated every molecule told his insticts what his knowledge could not. This was a favored place of the bi.tches, and the dogs that obliged them. It was an automatic response, the hunger in his cool, marine eyes. Common sense still lingered somewhere in the mind, the same mind that ushered him forward to follow a trail marked only by the passage of a lone fatale. Drowned by the indecision the last vixen of his life left him with, he crossed the river early on, and trailed the vixen parallel rather then from behind. It would help him in the coming events, he was sure. A gentleman at heart, the snake kept moving until he spotted a coat of ivory(so much like hers) and then stopped and stood still until detected.

W i l l o w v e i l . . . Lapping the remnants of her meal from her pearly jowls, the ivory witch lifted her head while casually taking in the scent of the fresh air around her before rotating and approaching the river once more. Full, feeling her small stomach stretch with bloating satisfaction, she tongued water into her throat and sat down quietly, if only for a moment, to think. Being alone like this, on her own again, revived memories of when she felt that she would always be detached from others of her kind, desolate, unknown and useless. Reclined, she bowed back her head smoothly, tilting her head towards the sky that she could not see, her fuchsia-stained eyes staring into the abyss. She remembered how it looked once, the sky, the forest, the world, when she was young, before the fire...

“Mom, mom! Look.” Chimed the tiny, albino pup as she pranced through the high stalks of grass, her bright maroon eyes spying a mouse that was scurrying through the field not far from her. Laughing, and dropping into a predatory stance, she wriggled her rump and charged after the rodent, barreling through the grass and obviously missing her target. Stumbling over a stone, she toppled into the dirt and found herself on her stomach, watching the tail of her quarry as it bolted away. Frowning, she picked up her head as she heard a laugh catch her ears, where she turned to look up at a white wolfess coming to stand above her. “Willow, if you go in running like that, you'll never catch anything.” Although true, her mother's words were as soft as feathers and the little pup smiled and got to her paws again. “I'll get it next time.” With a warm smile, her mother looked upon her child fondly, until her ears pricked forward and she turned her head alertly.

Abruptly, a loud sound, like thunder, cracked through the air, and a sort of red liquid sprayed out of her mother's body, painting Willow's face. Gasping, taken aback, Willow flinched backwards and stared wide-eyed as her mother's lovely form lurched painfully and collapsed before her. Utterly lost as to what was happening, Willow crept to her mother's face cautiously, whimpering to her. “M-mommy?” She squeaked helplessly as she looked over the she-wolf's form, suddenly noticing a hole in her neck that was bleeding horribly. “MOM!” Terrified beyond all control, the pup trembled at her mother's side, where she began to nudge at her, pressing her nose gently against her mother's cheek as she wailed. “Get up, mom, get up...” Her ears went forward as a strange sound, human voices, were rising up and coming closer to the two wolves. Staring above the high stalks of grass, confused, Willow looked around nervously, wondering what that racket was, and if it had been the thing that had harmed her mother. “Willow...” A frail voice touched her ears, and the child looked down quickly, and saw her mother lifting her head, trying to sit up.

“Willow, you must leave...” Her voice was weak, strained, and it scared the youngster deeply, striking at her heart. “But...” The little one began, not wanting to abandoned her mother, before her large she-wolf bumped her shoulder with her snout as she heard the sounds of the human voices growing louder, closer. “Go, go! It's not safe...” But no matter how hard the large she-wolf begged for her child to run, Willow was too petrified to move, and was not willing to leave her mother, no matter the danger. Knowing that the humans would soon find her and her daughter, the wolfess forced herself to stand, muttering, “Go, now, Willow...” and ambled through the grass. After a moment, a loud growling sounded up from afar, and another loud crack of thunder rose into the sky. Then there was silence, and a sudden whooping and laughter that the pup couldn't understand.

Startled, Willow ducked into the high grass, shivering as she listened to the alien voices of the humans as they murmured about their fine catch. Unable to understand the strange monsters, or see them, Willow remained hidden. Unknown to her, the humans had developed a bad habit, and didn't care much about where they disposed of their cigarettes, and tossed them over their shoulders before they left, while dragging Willow's mother's corpse along with them. Once their voices had gone, Willow crept from her hiding place and staggered through the plants, searching frantically for her mother, unsure what to do now that she was on her own. “Mom... Mom?” She called and called, but nothing happened, there was never a response to her cries. So, she kept looking, even though the strange smell of smoke was beginning to penetrate her nostrils. But she had never scented smoke before, and didn't realize that it was a danger to her. Eventually, she came to a grove in the field, where the hunters at shot down her mother. There was blood along the ground and she sniffed at it curiously. It smelled like her mother. But where was she?

Frowning, she sat down in the circle, and put her head on her paws. Why did her mother leave, and what were all those scary noises? Tired, confused, and mostly afraid, the child soon slipped away into slumber. Sadly, unaware of the harsh reality of fire and its destruction, Willow soon awoke to a strange heat against her pale fur, and a hard smell in her pink nose. Opening her eyes, she awoke in a world of flames, roaring and sparking, glowing brighter than the sun as they devoured the field, and closed in on the infant. Bemused, and frightened, the pup looked around frantically, squinting her eyes, finding that the fumes and heat of the flames where harsh to her underdeveloped senses. Whimpering, she began to howl and cry for her mother. But she never came. The fire was terrible and hot around her, and her eyes were beginning to burn very badly. Standing, she saw a patch in the grass that wasn't yet touched by the hungry blaze. And so she bolted into it, only to come to find another section of the field on fire. Yelping, startled, she darted through the field, trying to dodge as much fire as she could.

Reaching the forest, she found that some of the trees and bushes were on fire as well. But her path was blocked by a fire-lit shrub. She had no other choice but to try and fight through it. Charging forward, scared out of her wits, she began to push through the thick branches of the shrubbery, hot twigs lashing and prodding her skin. Ashes and hot sparks falling into her face and eyes as she scrambled desperately, crying and yelping until she forced her way out of the bush and took off into the forest. Racing with all her might, her eyes searing with pain, she came close to a river, where the current was slow, and swam head-on into the center of the stream without hesitation, and scrabbled her way atop a stationary stone in the water. Shuddering, petrified, shocked and confused, the young pup watched as the forest before her caught fire, but the river didn't. So there she sat, watching nature burn away by the monstrous flames, her eyes stinging with the results of having been in the fumes for so long, and also with the pain and loss of her mother. She was alone... And when she crossed the river hours later, and laid down at the other side, she drifted to sleep, and when she awoke... She was alone in the dark; blinded by the hot fumes of the fire.

The memories were strange and harsh, the last images she had ever remembered were fire, her enemy, and water, her ally and her mother's face. She hated fire, and it was tragic that it had been the last thing she had ever physically seen. Recalling her mother was a strange thing too, for she had loved Willow and sacrificed what life she had left to spare her daughter's and give her time to escape, and the white wolfess came to feel that she had been the only creature in the world to care about her. Sighing, disliking these thoughts, she twitched an ear curiously, realizing that she had been found. It didn't take any turnings of her head to know that someone was nearby. She could see his misty white aura. With her eyes still in the sky, she opened her jaws, her voice soft like her mother's, as she called to him, “Come.” It was no use trying to run from the will of nature. Despite the fact of having ran all the way out here, her hormones, along with the pain of her memories of being alone, made Willow lonely herself, and heartbroken in her own way. Willow knew the results of what would happen if she let a male approach her during this time, and that reason in itself was why the ivory female was going to let him come near; children. Maybe then, with a litter, she wouldn't feel so alone and useless. Like her mother, she could protect something.

Lestat Corvus Corvidae...
Teal eyes watched her, studied her, until the interest turned into obsession. Naturally observant, the rouge found himself walking down an old and familiar trail. Her skin was flawless, except, perhaps, the scars on her visage that in turn brought attention to her strange eyes. Different eyes. Thoughtful, painful eyes. She was small, malnurished perhaps, he could not tell from this distance. She smelled of old blood, but the scent was earthy and fading. Her home...it was not the friendly sort. Curious, he stepped forward without permission to, to examine her further and in more detail. It calmed his mind, looking for differences he might have missed from afar. Different from her. Valeriana. The moment he set the unwelcome step forward, she spoke, and the similarity was broken completely in his mind. This woman's voice was soft, clear and melodic. The witch's had been harsh, forceful, and corse from barking endless commands on the battlefeild. She was safe, this innocent to his past. For now, she wouldn't be the victim of his insanity. Still, he ought to turn back. He knew this, and yet he went forward. He was a danger, a threat. Unpredictable from the maddness of his lonely soul and scarred by the heartbreak he suffered from. Lestat could predict what was the result of the unpredictable, her body broken and bruised, torn and shreaded. Those beautiful eyes, gone.

Those eyes. They were strange. Different. Pleasing to look at somehow, more so then the lusting red he yearned for. Tounge ran itself over his chaped leathers quickly, trying to hold back the bile that rose from the depths of his gut when he remembered those eyes. He was ruining this day with such morbid thoughts, and he knew he ought to leave her. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Despite the monster lurking behind his own strange eyes, he knew far worse existed in the world. It was a comforting thing to know, that his insanity was not so horrible as he thought. When he pictured the true beasts, their eyes flashing with hunger and jowls slathered with foam, he found relief in knowing he was not as feral as he sometimes believed. He knew how to control himself, and even if he could not....he did not know this woman, nor her alliances. He was a stranger to Fire and Ice, they knew nothing of him. Tracking was a simple thought, but the man was a retired spy, he could outsmart any mutt that put their nose to the ground. The Crow moved forward again, finding himself more or less in control and a sane reality.

"It is not safe to be alone miss. Have you no one?" A protective question, one that could be taken the wrong way. Part of him wished she could give him a curt goodbye, explaining her love was near and that he could leave. It would make things simple. Less complicated. He did not know her, but he wanted her anyway. "What do you want? From me?" It was an offer, maybe. Even he did not know. He wanted something, she needed something. He could see it. The thoughtful mask across her scarred and beautiful face. Those eyes--blind he could see now--were much too revealing. Perhaps he was imagining it. That was possible. It had happened before. "I am easily twice your age. You are young, and while I am strong still, I am no youth. I am old, miss, an old soldier no one wants. Why do you beckon me forward, when others would come? Others far more suitable?"

W i l l o w v e i l . . . And so he came. Turning her head gently when his voice touched her pallid ears, she could easily detect the age within his voice, and many other things that dwell there as well. When unable to see the expressions of ones she encountered, Willow learned to read and study voices and what they held. This sound, that voice, his words, it made her curious. Flicking her clouded scarlet eyes upon his face, they stared forward, as if looking through him, or into him with eyes that told many stories, that told her entire story. Oh, such lost and lonely eyes she bared. Yet, her gaze was not harsh when it looked to him, nor was it irritated, it showed no signs of wanting him to leave either-- they were welcoming him. For several years now, she had avoided all male contact during this time, when she was in heat. But now, she was tired of running, for it seemed like the further she ran from her problems, the closer they came in later days. It was unavoidable, it was nature's will for a wolf to do what was intended of them, to mate, partner, to run in a pack, to stick together. Finally, she had received a pack, after so many months of being discarded from other pack borders because of her 'handicap', until she was thankfully accepted by the wise Akira. Although she was part of a pack now, she felt more alone and useless than ever. Not even Ender, a pup she had adopted, filled the empty void in her heart. She needed more. Having a pack didn't mean anything if they didn't function like family, it only meant she had others to look after for the time being, and a place to stay, a job. But when would this missing piece of her soul come to her? When would she be happy again? Her mother's smiling face came into her mind, then her body when she collapsed onto the ground, a gunshot in her neck. Then, she realized what she needed, what she desired and longed for more than anything else. Love.

Though she could not see this male, and though he spoke of being old, unwanted, that there were better wolves, she showed no concern for what he said. Her face, her vivid crimson orbs, they accepted him for what he was. She stared at him as if she had been waiting for him for a very long time, and smiled warmly, a song-like chuckle escaping her lips, dispersing into a small vapor in the air as she spoke again. "Who are you to determine your own worth to me? Can you not see the things that cripple my own worth in the eyes of others?" Standing, she faced him, moving close to the aura that she sensed, easily smelling his breath, feeling it from a small distance, and kept her face only a foot from his own nose. "You are old, but strong. I am young, but weak. You are a soldier, I am an outcast. You can see, I cannot... In a way, we complete one another." Her words were slow, sensual, soft, like velvet against the senses. "The only thing we have in common, is that we're both alone." Drawing her face close, she did the unthinkable, something dangerous, careless, foolish. But wonderful. The tip of her pink nose pushed against the dark fur on his cheek, and she rubbed her face against his gently, enjoying the feel of being able to touch another wolf after so long. If he was to snap at her, so be it, that didn't frighten her, not anymore. "Perhaps you are the one I have been waiting for, lost soldier. Maybe I was cast away for so long, and wandered so far, and came to this very place... to meet you." Slipping her face away gradually, she took a small step back, disconnecting herself from the warmth that his own fur had brought to her own. It was an intoxicating feeling, to touch another. It made one feel important, comforted, loved.

But maybe she was making a fool of herself, maybe everything she said was not true, but then why did it happen? By chance? No, there was never chance. Only fate. "For why have I wandered through such a horrible world, and came here, only to continue to suffer? If you were not meant to come to me, then why did you come when I called, why did you show up just when I had?" Pausing, a staggering breath left her lips, and she found herself wanting this male more than ever. Not so much in the sexual sense that her loins were pleading for, but for him to be the one that she needed at her side always, someone to help her, guide her, protect her. But would he be the one, was he capable of this. Although blind, it seemed as if her eyes were studying him, for his aura was brighter than anyone's she had ever came upon before. What did this mean? Was she meant to be blind, did her aura-sensitive mind tell her more than she realized? Did different colored auras, with different volumes of light, mean something? Perhaps all these foolish thoughts were just her hormones coursing through her. But his aura called her today. Though never an ambitious creature, she found herself determined to be closer to him. If he denied her, then she would move on, for she was used to being alone, to being rejected by others. He came to her, he wanted her, she could hear it in his voice, and she could hear the doubt that he possessed in thinking that she would want him in return. She would prove his doubts wrong.

Stepping forward, she lifted her tail absently, her smooth voice expelling from her ivory maw again, "Also... If you had come here, based on my scent alone, wouldn't you have already tried to take what most wolves would desire?" She started again, her voice musing, but serious, "You desire what I desire, don't you, and that's not just mounting me, and being on your way... Is it, soldier?" Gently squinting her eyes, in a thoughtful manner, she looked up into his face, wishing for the first time in her life that she could see what was playing across his visage at her words. If he was to grow angry, then so be it. But she didn't sense any aggression in his voice or aura, not yet anyway. Though he could be a danger to her life, it was evident that Willow didn't care. If she died today, then that was her destiny, but she didn't feel that her life was to be over, not just yet. There was more for her to do in this world. Quiet, stationary, her soft eyes longed for his answers, for someone to be at her side, and that someone could somehow be him. But was he willing?

Lestat Corvus Corvidae...

The monster in him, sulking in the shadow of his conscience, murmmered cruel and morbid things into the base of his thought, tempting him to stare a moment longer into those brilliant spheres of crimson. They were cursed, this was a fact for the man. Despite every objection he could summon, their lovely colour gently shooed away the hesitation with a gentle, ivory hand. A smile, so sweet, brought him closer to the fatale, and he felt himself losing the world around them. The universe was centered around the moon-struck femme, and he was but a bystander, blessed and cursed to be seen by those unseeing eyes. The grimace, forever painted onto his mask of deep brooding, began to lighten the grasp on his features. With an exhale, the woman smoothed the deep creases in his brow and brought his body straining against his will to keep the angel alive. It was a beloved battle, the line between pain and pleasure blurred from indecision and unreasonable want. The bile was inches from his throat, burning a gaping hole through his chest so that it laid open and exposed. Her words were hardly a sentance in his mind, though the twang of reprimand, however drowned in honey it might be, stung him in a way it should not have. He should have turned back while he still had the chance, but it was already too late. In the mere minute it took this nymph to peer in his direction and release her song, he was gone. Forced into a state of euphoria-laced numbness, he slipped away into the world that was hers. Softly, the door to reality shut behind his wary form, and it was done. He was gone.

Unable to move any other way than forward, he did so, pads making no noise against the crystalized ground they walked 'pon. She met him halfway, whispering of their likenesses, their differences, until the wonderful song ended, and the word alone struck him hard in the gaping hole in his chest. Choked by the word, he gasped for air while it constricted his airway. He was well aware of the affects of loneliness, the sensation of heartbreak and betrayal. It was unavoidable, eventually, but the prediction made it no less painful. Far more devastating than the physical blows he had suffered as a young soldier in Acantha's pack, more life altering then the very cause of his solitude, loneliness was killing him. In this angels world of perfect sense and softly spoken truths, his sea-foam eyes sought hers out in earnest. They had disappeared, the place they occupied now graced with the pelt of the fatale. Suddenly aware of her exact position, the man stiffened as their personal barriers were breached. Oh, no. "Don't" His voice strained, still recovering from the desolate reminder of his solemn existance, and fell short on his tounge.

She was so close he could feel her breath on his cheek, her blood pulsing temptation mere inches from his clenched jaws. The monster, excited by this change in events, lurched forward in his mind, straining at the bonds that kept him tied away. Somehow, so far away, that breathy and seductive voice reached out to him. Take me, love. Just...try it. She had made a fool of him that night, manipulating his self control until it fractured under the strain. The memory was so clear, yet blurred by this very moment. It was difficult to believe he was not in the den, sharing space with a woman much deadlier then he could imagine. Even their love had been a struggle for power, her greed and his pride. But she had been cold to the touch, and Angelface(as he had come to refer her to) was much warmer. The heat seared his skin and boiled his blood. Yet, he did not move a muscle. The monster remained chained and unsatisfied, the crow remained controlled and more or less sane. The touch was less enjoyable for him, but he did not suffer entirely. While the contact was foriegn to him, it was soothing...like everything else about her. He really should have turned back while he had the chance.

Throwing away the "what if's" and "if only's", he began to concentrate more intensely on the notes that left her tounge. It took him less then a second to draw a conclusion, one that he offered to her for a reason he knew not. "You are a believer in fate." The questions began then, the same questions that his subconscience had been asking him since the arrived here, or perhaps even before then. He could not answer those questions, he would be proved a fool no matter what he said. For the first time in this meeting, he felt himself pulling back in resistance. He couldn't be owned again, it would destroy him and he knew it. Yet...he was torn. She spoke the contents of his mind as if the answers were so easy to come across, as if it was all too clear for her to understand. Envious, he pulled closer to her, eyes narrowed and studious. Again, they were terrifyingly close, but his mind wouldn't be lost in her vermillion gaze. He wanted to know.

"I came to these lands because I had no where else to go." That was partially true, he was banished from the lands of Silver Rain and Acantha had shunned him for his rebellion against her reign. He could have aurged the punishment, if he wanted to. He could have, and still could, seek out her forgiveness and the crime would likely be forgotten. But instead he had distanced himself from that life, hiding away in these long-ago forgotten lands for reasons even he did not know. Why did he want to suffer so? At a word, he could have everything he ever wanted, but instead he stayed within the shadows and mused over his existance. It certianly wasn't for the attention, for he had no loved ones he could possibly coax any sympathy from. Confused and slightly irritated by the lack of knowledge he had for his own thoughts, he turned the question to her. "What do you desire? What do you want? I have little to offer if you are searching for something in me." His thoughts bordered paranoia. "But before any questions are answered...may I at least have your name?" He was lost again, jealousy melted into a deep desire. She was what he wanted, but for more then what he had come for. However, he didn't know why exactly.

W i l l o w v e i l . . . Inhaling the sweet air, scented with the fragrances of the forest, of water, pine, leaves, and soil, she listened to the few words that he uttered to her. In the eyes of her mind, she looked upon his aura in curiosity, seeing the very thing that drew her wonder in further; the core of his sole was scarlet, the color of blood. She had seen this in her Alphaess as well, a red core, with a differently shaded outer glow. What did this mean? Was there something lurking beneath that aura, beneath the shells of these wolves, and of this male, that was different from many others? Was this core their soul that she could see? When in having drawn closer to him, the intensity of the core's radiance flickered more brightly. Curious. Very curious, indeed. But she didn't question it, not for now. Her left ear dashed to the side at his question, and she lifted her face, but turned it away from his own, and pointed it to the treetops again. The air felt cool, she could sense that the sun was dispersing for the day, and soon the moon would grace the skies. Ah, she missed looking upon the stars and the moon. She could only just remember so much. Sighing gently, trying not to make the noise noticeable, she turned her attention back upon the man, taking herself away from her other daydreams for a moment more in order to speak to him. However, as much as she knew the answer to what he wanted to know, he asked another question, one longing for her name. She smiled softly, almost tempted to not ever say it, to keep him on his toes, but her name drifted from her pale lips at his request.

“Willowveil,” A moments silence, and she answered his questions with a delicate voice, not bothering to mask what she desired any longer, she said, “I will not lie, nor hide it anymore...I seek love most of all, so that it may fill the void of loneliness that has always impaired me.” Feeling the ground growing more cool by the seconds, she felt a sudden desire to be out of the woods, to have the moon shining above her, to listen to the crickets and owls sing in the open air. To her, the wilderness could be intoxicating. Sniffing the air lightly again, she said in an almost hushed voice, “Come, I don't wish to hide under the trees any longer,” With that, she walked away swiftly, heading towards the stream with a few quick stride. At first, it seemed like she may not have noticed she was approaching the moving water, but she could sense the river, and lifted a paw and stepped into it carefully, feeling that it was shallow, and so swam to the opposite side. Turning as she came out to the shore, wondering if he would follow, she grinned, and a melodic laughter escaped her maw as she twisted away and disappeared into the thicket, her body moving like a strange phantom in the shadows as it dashed away through the forest, with the water glistening against her pelt as the moonlight touched it. Racing with all her might, till she felt the trees give way, her body plunged into a meadow. A meadow, a horrid memory lingered with the image of these fields, but that was during the day, when it was hot, when fire singed her face. But the night, it was cool, and welcoming, and she knew it would be dark. There would be no fire or humans there. Once reaching the field, she stopped and turned gracefully, waiting. Would he come?

Lestat Corvus Corvidae...

Oh, the mystery of it all. The wait, the temptation, the wonder. Endless questions, endless possibilites, but only a few answers, only a very few results. It was pathetic, the way the monotoned male watched her. Like she was a puzzle, and he were the much too interested puzzlemaster. The labyrinth of her ways intrigued him, sent him forward and searching for more. A drug, if you will. He had tasted her, briefly, across his gums and felt the heat of his reaction to her. Now, he wanted it again. Strange, how such a delicate creature could hold him so tightly, so suffocatingly close. Tounge swiped over his chops once more, waiting for her answer, for the spell of her life. And yet, he had to watch her pretty face draw away from him and up t'ward the stars crossed over eerily by the skeleton fingers decorated in an interesting pattern of silver-lined leaves, appearing rich tonight rather than poor and drab. The moon did such interesting things to the atmosphere. The halo about her head, dim and dishelved from the canopy above, twisted and turned until she faced him once more. The wind sighed in his ears, masking her soft sound too well for him to notice, so well that he couldn't connect it to her equally soft smile that played across her fascade. It was a dangerous move, and for a second his heart skipped a beat, debating her motives behind that mysterious feature now highlighting the beautiful mask. Do not tempt desperate men, for desperate men are dangerous men, sweetness... But at her gentle lyrics, he calmed, and listened closely to the flute-like voice that this new world revolved around.

Willowveil.

It fit, somehow. So much better than the various titles that had running through his mind 'til now. His dial turned on it's axis slightly, and his jaws parted cautiously to test the name on his tounge. "Willowveil..." His hum would have gone unnoticed, for she spoke again, and it was cut short in his throat. His heart also shorted, and it stammered in his chest for several moments while he reached for something to say. “I will not lie, nor hide it anymore...I seek love most of all, so that it may fill the void of loneliness that has always impaired me.” Was that the secret? Love? A mask of doubt crossed his features for a moment, thinking over the answer she gave him. She wanted it, and thus far she hadn't proven to be a foolish sort of girl. Quite the opposite, in fact. His lips pressed together tightly, and he thought over the idea. Perhaps the fatale had given him two answers, instead of one. No time to think over it now, she was beckoning him away, and like all curious men, he followed the beautiful voice that seemed to give all the answers.

Talons dug into the earth for traction, bodice re-adjusted itself accordingly, and then he was trailing behind her. It was easy too keep up at first, the brisk movement was ideal for loosening stiff joints and tight muscles. He crossed the river more quickly then she, bounding across it where he spied the shallow water the woman had found for him. He was almost to her, nearly at her side, when her laughter caught his ears and she disappeared into the darkened forest once more. He paused, letting it all sink in. But his mind didn't want to think, didn't want to analyze every movement like it had it these latest minutes(or had it been hours?). It commanded his body like a puppeteer, feeding his heart a surge of excitement. At once, every hair was on end and a grin adorned his worn face. Lestat raced after her on light feet, turning into the umbrush with more than needed energy. Willowveil had the advantage of a head start, but the old ways he remembered was returning, and with a little help of adrenaline, he was on her tail soon enough. Legs worked like pistions beneath him, pads touching earth just enough to pull him forward another stride, and another, and another. It was easy to forget when he was running, the speed simply let his troubles behind. It was refreshing, however short the distance was. It seemed seconds later when his eyes spied the woman from the treeline. It felt required to stop, so he did, grey bodice half-hidden in the opaque darkness of the forest.

Things seemed different here, but the chilly, frost-bitten air still smelled the same, still tasted the same. Lonely and appealing; harsh and cuting, with an underlining perfume of sweet wretchedness that seeped and unfurled like salt and grime slathered into the gaping wound placed before the old soldiers heart. It seemed to snow, soft, silvern rays of the moon twisting 'round the dark shadows in a subtle dance for power. It was raining white and lonely, just like the sullen figurine that stood stark as daylight against the white-washed earth and distant blur of black. For a moment, from his spot beneath two atmospheres, he allowed his gaze to roam over the contours of the woman's face. Her eyes were as vivid and warm as the blood in her veins, like two drops of spilled wine in an endless world the colour of freshly fallen snow, but where there should have been black irises there was only an endless depth of liquid red, the colour of bleeding roses. Ancient and noble, soft and gentle, she painted a picture of vulnerability and temperance; and yet, by the delicate light of the silver moon and the streaks of celestial bodies and shooting stars dancing across the universe, there couldn't be an angel more beutiful in heaven. Was this trickery of the light? The deception of nymphs who preyed with folly on the hearts of men just after the hours of dark? What sort of spell was this to weave its gently malicious way into the hallow contours of his shadowed heart? Beauty is as beauty does, and for all the young maiden's gentleness and docility, it took a world of scathing and sins not to fall in love. It was a face like any other, and when she spoke her voice was scarce above a whisper, and when she smiled her features lit up with a resonating warmth that made her appear all the more enchanting; all the more beautiful. He couldn't have stood there forever, no matter how much he wanted to. Her patiently waiting figure was far too enticing. Forelegs extended from the shoulder to throw the rest of his stride into the rolling, formal walk of a soldier. He weaved through the longer grasses that imitated winter so well merely for the shortest way to the woman.

The cold, merciless smile that curved a soft shadow along his lips darkened, for it was all he could do to not touch her. Again, he paused mid-stride, then finished it out swiftly as if no hesitation had existed. He ought to have been wondering over how she had moved so gracefully without the use of sight, and he should have been feeling guilty for his adoration of her in the absence of Valeriana, and he wanted to walk away from her tempting voice so that he couldn't pull himself into this false hope. (Wasn't one fantasy more than enough?) But he stood still, gazing 'pon her mysterious face with no wonder, no guilt, and little indesicion. His voice, somehow softer in the openess of the feild, reaxhed out to her instead. "I could love you with time, easily. Any man could, seeing you like this and listening to your infinate answers to my foolish questions." A space to breathe, but he seemed to have forgotten how. "It would be wise, Willowveil, for you not to love me." Another space of silence, then he frowned deeply, brows creasing in a very unfamiliar way; worried. He knew what he wanted to say to her, he just didn't know how. Every phrase had a loophole to catch him 'round the throat, every word had a double meaning that he didn't approve of. He let them fall in his throat, a reason and meaning fighting them back to his tounge, caution keeping them between tightly clenched jaws. With a little more force than intended, they eventually seeped from the confinded space. "I can give you whatever you want, but not forever."

W i l l o w v e i l . . . It didn't take too long before the gray phantom came into the field after her, and when he arrived, a porcelain smile was there to greet him. Twisting her ears forward, she awaited his words, and clung to them in a desperate silence, while her face was a sanguine portrait. Then, eventually, his words came, and they intoxicated her, and brought her heart closer to the light, warming it gradually. But she wouldn't give herself to him, not fully. There was going to have to be some time between them first. But that didn't mean she couldn't get the one thing that her body was naturally longing for at that moment; children. All she had to do was get him close, lure him in, and she would have her stomach filled with life. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard to get him to do this for her. Maybe he wanted it to. For he followed her, and watched her so strangely, she could only assume he may want many of the same things she did. However, why was it that there was a halo of doubt amongst his crown? Surely, deep inside, he wasn't as terrible as he assumed himself to be. And perhaps Willow would be able to help him see that, and nurture his heart, and bring him out of the lonely shadows of the world.

"It never hurts to take a chance," She replied, taking a few steps towards him, slowly, gracefully, till she came to stand before him again. Not as close as she had been before, but near enough nonetheless. "I don't ask you to be with me forever. I don't ask anything of you. I'm letting you make a choice for yourself, while knowing what I desire as well. I'm giving you an opportunity. A decision whether you would like to be at my side, to be mine, or not. If it is what you want," The white ghost slipped forward, and tipped her maw to his ear, letting her scent fill his nostrils as she muttered into his ear. "Then take it..." Suddenly, it seemed as if she spoke too soon and her head whipped around, her hackles rising and she scent her crimson eyes piercing into the field, while a growl dispensed from her jaws. Clenched teeth bared, vapor trailed from her clenched teeth, as if there were flames in her throat, flames that ignited the red fire in her eyes. A word slipped out of her jaws, low and guttural, but it was unheard. She no longer looked like a crestfallen angel she had a moment ago. Now, her ivory fur blazed like white flames in the glow of the moonlight hanging above, and her eyes burned with frustration. Lovely, yet demonic. She was feeling threatened.

It was a mystery to what she was looking towards, what she was growling at, until a black figure stalked from the high grass. His face was tinged with white, as well as his paws and tail. Another wolf, a male. But why would this set her off? Because of the manner of his approach. She could smell the desire on him, and knew all too well that he had scented her from afar and came to find her. He was young, strong, and strapping to the eyes, if that really mattered to a wolf like Willow. What mattered to her were his intentions, and she didn't approve of them. She had made her choice in Lestat, she had told him to take her for himself, and now that chance slimmed down, because there was another suitor. One she didn't want. But that didn't matter to the black-and-white wolf, for his brown eyes glinted with malice and lust. He would have her whether she desired it or not. His voice rose into the air, almost challenging the gray brute beside her. Her heart skipped a beat, her skin chilled. Turning her head, her eyes flashed to the old soldier, asking him, telling him, beckoning. Would you leave me? Would you fight for me? It is you I want, not him... Make him go.

"Back out, old man. I'll take her now," He said with a smile in his voice, and a cocky twist in his grin. Oh yes, he had caught the perfume of her heat, and it was going to be his. Looking upon the other male, he figured he wouldn't be much of a challenge. But who was he to underestimate another based on appearance? Perhaps his judging eyes weren't as keen as they should be. Maybe he should have realized that he made a mistake here, and he was unwanted. Either way, he didn't care. The white demoness' scent was enough to drive him mad. If he had to fight, then bring it on. As he looked between the two, he flared his lips, grinning as Willowveil snarled at him, rejecting him. Ouch. But oh, you will be mine. You'll enjoy my company soon, girl. Once I get rid of him...

Lestat Corvus Corvidae...

Her silences could kill him, they were so deep and resonating it made his very bones ache.

His seafoam eyes watched her step forward carefully, a single glace sent downward to the earth, checking for the heat of flames that made his throat burn when she was near. She did not appear to possess that talent, so the soft lining slowly deteriorated with no obvious reason or cause to him. His nares flared, trying to catch enough of the scent to analyze it before it strokedit’s hot fingers across his tongue and worked its way into his chest. The angelic trill of her voice was constantly being lost in that painful throb in the back of his mouth, always the monster drawing his hungry eyes across her jugular, wondering how sweet the red liquid would be to taste, just to sample. Eager for an excuse to touch her, his nares met her cheek halfway, inhaling the sweetness of her fur in relief. It all was slowly sinking in…the throbbing, the headache and loss of concentration. In the span of his nine years, he had grown far too used to the sickeningly sweet scent that drove younger men mad with hunger. At least he had come to distinguish the difference of the distractingly powerful and the gentle caress of the everyday perfume. It was calming to know he did not need to suffer so much every day, and that the flames would cease as the days and night passed.

If it is what you want, then take it… He had a choice, that was refreshing. Jaws tight, he stepped an inch closer, but pulled back his face so that he could study her visage. In the dangerously comical way it had before, his crown tilted to the side with a thoughtful expression on his face. His tongue unfurled from the chamber it was held, and began to utter a few lyrics, soft and clear. “Taking seems like such a...” He trailed off, watching the woman’s face change drastically. The sweetest of wines was burning the hottest flame he could image possible, but the gaze was not for him, but rather some far-off figure he could not yet see. Drowned in her seasonal essence, he failed in detect any other on the wind, and was made to wait anxiously and impatiently for the soul or souls to emerge from the silver-lined darkness around himself and Willowveil.

A single male, wolven despite the jackal lingering behind his malicious, swarthy eyes; A prince of warped contracts and nefarious activity. Automatically, the older man’s lip curled at the thought of his kind: cynical, thieving, stealing their way into the riches of El Dorado and fighting their way into treasure without a master to reap their benefits. If honorable enough, they might fancy themselves as the cloying serpent draped about the delicate shoulders of kings, whispering in their ears and climbing to the greedy tyrant that warms their beds. As much a murderer as a romantic, surely, a gypsy of conniving arts and ravenous hunger that was plain in this one’s posture. The simple, disgustful curl began to retreat along the grey muzzle of the monotone brute to create a more venomous snarl, tongue snaking between his lax jaws in anticipation to finally satiate the monster’s bloodthrist. Loving nature turned murderous at once, acidic eyes trained on the new target of his attention, and what a poor soul that beast was, to invoke that unwavering glare. The glance from the woman in white was all encouragement he needed.

Lestat stepped forward twice; sliding his bodice along Willowveil’s in protection and mockery, a sneer courting the edges of that dreadful, silent snarl. There he stood, talons embedded into the loam and every muscle stiff under the unkept coat of an old soldier. Ivory plume, content to hang limp between his hocks at any other time, lashed at empty air above his unmoving bodice. “I don’t think I will.” The words smoldered steadily in his chest, slowly growing to a vibration that needed not a tone to escape his tightened jaws and seep into the hostile air. Crown tipped forward, extending until it laid over the woman’s back lightly, just the tips of her hackles brushing along his throat. “Try me, vagabond...” The mane that laid in thick layers around his shoulders and along his back rose on end, creating an impressive transformation from the lean and lanky figure he had owned seconds ago. He was more than prepared for any attack to come his way, if only for one thing. Between him and his challenger stood Willowveil, wickedly beautiful and seemingly vulnerable to any head-on attack her new suitor might create. Yet, behind the shield she offered, he stood awkwardly, hind pistons tucked beneath him and ready to live up to their nickname. For a nine year old, worn and scarred from battle, he seemed overly confident in what his old muscles could do. The angle of his throatlatch sharpened drastically, now turning to press firmly behind the shoulder of the angel turned witch. Don’t move… “Just once…” Once is all it would take... “Try me.” What was working behind that acidic gaze? How was he planning to protect Willowveil while he stood behind her, taunting and mocking the hellion in bold confidence? Simple answer, however vague it may be.

This was his area of expertise.

ooc: Sorry for the abscence. The family laptop wont even connect to the internet anymore and the computer that my mom uses is well... always being used by her for work & stuff. So I can hardly get online. I should have a new laptop coming in the mail in about a week, since it's being built. So that should clear up my inactivity once it arrives.

W i l l o w v e i l . . . Flaring her white lips, the demoness growled with outrage. How dare he, how dare he try and think she was some sort of prize. He would see, if he was to win, that she wasn't going to be taken over so lightly. Hackles erect, she felt them calm as Crowe's maw rested along her back, cooling her tense nerves as she glared blindly in the direction of their rival. Sure, sometimes wovles fought for a mate. But in this case, if Crowe lost, she would fight for her own freedom. She did not want the other suitor, and her posture, stance and constantly displayed aggression made this more than obvious. However, the new suitor didn't seem to care, in fact, he delighted in her anger, in her opposed distaste for him. It made it all the more exciting and challenging for him.

"So, when you two have children, and they grow... They'll have to burry gramps here before they could even give him grandkids." Snorting, he gave a hoarse laugh. "How sad..." Pacing forward, he began to weave left and right, studying his quarry as he moved slowly.

Willow didn't like this one bit. For one thing, she was furious and not to mention terrified. What if Crowe did lose? Her expectany to be with him was so high that she felt as if she had already mated with him for most of her life. She didn't want to lose him, not now, not ever. If there was any chance that this younger suitor began to win, Willow would step in. It may hurt Crowe's pride, but that was better than him slipping into the cold grip of death. She would save him if she had to, or she would die trying.

Flicking her ears forward, she listened to harsh snarl from the muzzle resting in her white fur. He was ready to fight, and despite her fear and hesitation in the possibilities of losing him, she had to let him fight. There was no other way out of this. The suitor wasn't going to back away any time soon. Sealing her lips, she slowly stepped away from Crowe, her body no longer barricading him from the other wolf. She would protect him at a later moment in time. For now, she moved aside her bodily door, and from the invisible pin, she released the bull waiting behind her. "Go then," She said with a harsh whisper, a fire burning hard in her chest as she glared fiercly in the direction in which the other male was. "Rip his throat out..." The witch said more quietly, as she rotated and positioned herself at a small distance to spectate whatever she could of this oncoming battle.

[ooc: *whimpers* :< Hewwo?]

[ooc: Roooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooose! D: *cry cry cry*]

ooc: xD It's ok. I was just wondering where you went off to. I'm sorry to hear that you're sick. :c Hope you feel better!